


Ship to Wreck (and the water's coming in fast)

by theonsfavouritetoy



Series: Theon Kink Bingo [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, POV Theon Greyjoy, Theon Greyjoy-centric, Theon Kink Bingo, Theon is a right prick, Title from a Florence + the Machine Song, sleepy/unconscious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:08:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27279994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonsfavouritetoy/pseuds/theonsfavouritetoy
Summary: Theon kink bingo series #1
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Jon Snow
Series: Theon Kink Bingo [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990951
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39
Collections: Theon Greyjoy Kink Bingo





	Ship to Wreck (and the water's coming in fast)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my contribution for the Theon Kink Bingo event!
> 
> As some of my regular lovelies have probably noticed, I'm in the middle of fighting off a huge writers block – so of course I signed up for the bingo, in the hope that some short, smutty ficlets would help to dissolve the block and get me writing again.
> 
> I'll leave it to you to judge if it has worked ^^'
> 
> This first installment in my endeavour to gather ALL the bingos (greedy, greedy, greedy) is set in a pre-series canon world, where Jon and Theon are both young and carefree, where Theon is an utter prick and somehow still manages to make Jon fall for him, and fall for Jon in return. 
> 
> A quick note on warnings: Should I think another one is necessary in addition to the tags, I'll post it in a note on the relevant chapter. But every story pretty much is what it says on the tin :)

Visitors aren’t exactly a rarity in Winterfell. Sometimes it’s one of Lord Eddard’s lieges, or a flock of Crows from the Wall, sometimes Lady Stark’s family comes up from Riverrun. Theon doesn’t care much either way. If the hustle and bustle and the whispers about hostages and failed rebellions get too loud, he simply vanishes for a couple hours, hiding away at his favourite spot, or letting Ros have a taste of his frustration. 

But this time it is different. This time there are too many of them, too many visitors that need a proper place to sleep instead of simply bedding down in the Great Hall. Lord Eddard had come to Theon a few weeks ago, pretending to be bothered by what he had to ask of him. Of course Theon had agreed to take in a roommate for the duration of the King’s visit. As if he’d have had any other chance. But then Lord Eddard had looked even more sheepish, finally coming out with the whole truth. 

Theon grins to himself as he stalks past a group of the Queen’s ladies, all giggling and staring at him. He doesn’t give them a second look. Who’d have thought, he thinks, who’d ever have thought that having Jon Snow for a roommate would have more up- than downsides? Sure, he’s a moody, broody bastard. He doesn’t like Theon and makes no effort to hide the fact. Not that Theon cares, not in the slightest. And, admittedly, at first he hadn’t been too delighted with the prospect of seeing that long face first thing every morning for God knows how long… but that had been before Theon had learned three things about Jon Snow. 

One, he sleeps naked. 

Two, he’s certainly not hard to look at like that. 

And three… he sleeps like the dead. 

Theon quickens his steps, hastening through the hallways until he comes to his chamber. Carefully he opens the door, peering in. It would be unfortunate if Snow were still awake. He takes a long time to fall asleep once Theon is in bed too, twitching and huffing for what feels like an eternity. But not tonight. Tonight Theon is lucky, and his grin widens as he observes the unmoving lump beneath the furs. There’s no sound, no audible breathing, no snores. The first night Theon had been horrified at the lack of sleeping noises or visible movement, had even cautiously placed a hand on Snow’s warm chest at one point, to confirm he’s still alive. 

Theon relaxes, closing the door with a dull thud before he gets rid of his clothes and steps up to his washbasin. He goes through his new bedtime routine, the same he does every morning. But since he’s got Snow in his bed… Theon doesn’t know why exactly, but for some reason he now wants to feel clean when he goes to bed instead of only washing after waking up. He scrubs his skin thoroughly, rinses his mouth with the herbal paste he regularly buys from a Dornish merchant, he even drives his hands through his hair, making sure he looks and smells his best. Not that Snow’s going to have a chance to appreciate it. Not for a while at least.

Finally Theon crawls into bed, anticipation making heat curl in his stomach. He’s half hard already, his hands shaking. There’s a certain risk to this, and no matter how unlikely it is that someone other than one of the maids – all of whom Theon knows how to keep quiet – should come knocking on Theon’s door, _should_ he be found like this… He swallows, pushing the thought of the consequences away. No one will come. No one has come the last half dozen nights. 

It’s cold, despite the embers still glowing in the hearth, and Theon quickly slides under the furs, biting his lip as he reaches out. The first touch is always somewhat of a shock, the hot, naked flesh scorching his fingertips. Theon lets his hand glide higher, along the softness of Snow’s inner thigh, until he reaches his buttocks. They’re a work of art, rounded, firm, perfectly nestling into Theon’s palms. He splays his fingers out, digging them into the skin, squeezing, kneading. Snow doesn’t move, doesn’t even twitch when Theon spreads his cheeks, fingers dipping between them. 

He’s so soft there, so warm, still slightly swollen from the morning, and for a moment Theon thinks about just waking Snow right then. It’d be good to fuck him without any preamble, drive into that silky heat until Snow is hoarse from his screams – no. This isn’t what Theon wants tonight. Tonight he wants him like this, pliant, quiet… He couldn’t say what it is that fascinates him so, why he gets so aroused by it, why he spills harder than ever when Snow isn’t reacting to anything Theon does. 

He takes his time, slowly kissing a wet path up Snow’s spine until he comes to his nape. The soft curls there tickle Theon’s face and he noses them aside to get to the skin. In the dark of the room he can’t see the bruises he left there last night, and the night before, but knowing they’re there is a heady feeling. Theon hopes it’s an unmarked spot he latches onto now, another little trace he can admire in the morning, can watch Snow flinching when he brushes his hair and his fingers graze the spot, his cheeks blushing a fierce red...

Theon shifts, reluctantly reaching out into the cold air to fumble for the oil he has started to keep under his pillow. He uncorks it with his teeth, pouring a few drops directly onto his prick before crawling closer to Snow’s body. He's radiating heat, warming Theon better than any amount of furs ever could. It takes a little manoeuvering, but at last he manages to slide his slicked prick between Snow’s buttocks. Theon groans, the tight squeeze almost too much in his already tense state. Snow twitches, sniffling quietly before going lax again. 

Theon waits, a heartbeat, two, before he starts to move. He doesn’t have much leverage like this; instead of giving full, long thrusts he has to be content with a slow, rhythmic glide of his prick between Snow’s buttocks. It doesn’t matter. It feels fantastic, slick, tight, almost as good as sliding fully into Snow. Theon’s prick catches on Snow’s puffy hole and for a tiny moment he almost goes for it, push in and fuck him properly. But that’d be inevitably the end of the game. Not even Snow has managed to sleep through _that_. 

Not yet.

Theon’s breath comes faster all too soon. Snow feels perfect like this, without the too deep look of his dark Stark eyes, or the sad little pout he never loses, not even when fucked into the mattress. There’s no quiet huffs, no stifled moans, no dangerous whisperings of Theon’s name, no hands clinging to him as if they never want to let go again. There’s another thing he’s learned about Snow: in the dark, he’s dangerous. 

The tension is rising with every shallow thrust of Theon’s hips, with every inch of soft skin his hand finds in the darkness. He lets it roam all over Snow’s body, from his throat down to his chest, over tiny, stiffened teats, grazing a flat stomach and finally palming at the half-hard little bastard prick, always so responsive, even in his sleep. Snow sighs, moving his hips in small thrusts against Theon’s hand. Not long now, and Theon returns his mouth to Snow’s neck, sucking the skin between his teeth. Snow jolts, emitting a soft, low moan as his hand twitches against Theon’s, making his fingers press harder against his prick. 

He’s not quite there yet, all his responses coming subconsciously, and Theon bites down on the soft skin as he finally pushes just a little harder on the next thrust. Snow arches against Theon, his fingers tightening around Theon’s hand on his prick as Theon glides into him, so easily, as if he’d fucked Snow for months rather than half a dozen nights. Theon’s eyes fall shut as he drives deep into the tight, slick warmth; he moans against Snow’s neck in the same moment Snow cries out, startled and drowsy. 

Theon moves faster, he can already feel his release rising in him, his balls tightening as they slap against Snow’s buttocks. Snow is panting, a constant stream of moans and gasps pouring from his mouth as Theon fucks him harder, his hand working Snow’s prick faster, his own cock pulsing, almost painful, and with a last, stifled cry Theon spills inside Snow, his eyes rolling back in his head, his blood thundering in his ears. He barely feels Snow jerk, barely registers the warm liquid rolling over his fingers as he waits for the room to stop spinning. 

“Hmmm...” 

Snow shifts until Theon’s prick slides out of him. His breath is already starting to calm down, his voice heavy with sleep. 

“M’cold,” he mumbles, and Theon rolls his eyes, wiping his hand on the underside of his pillow before he draws the furs up to Snow’s ears. 

“Gr’joy?” 

“What,” Theon sighs, slightly annoyed. He’s tired, spent. He wants to go to sleep. 

“S’my turn,” Snow mumbles, crowding closer until his back is touching Theon. “On the morrow… s’only fair.” 

His breathing goes quiet, inaudible once again – and Theon is wide awake, staring into the darkness. The bastard must be dreaming already to say such absolute horseshit. And should he actually be serious… Theon blinks, determinedly closing his eyes. He’ll have to fuck it out of him in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are as always highly appreciated! ❤️❤️❤️


End file.
